


Illicit

by flootiger



Category: Tokio Hotel
Genre: Adult Content, Angst, M/M, Rough Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:33:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2593670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootiger/pseuds/flootiger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bill bumps into someone he thought he’d never see again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Illicit

**Author's Note:**

> Sort of side pairing with Bill/Alex Claster but it's only mentioned :) 
> 
> Here is some (not very good) Billshido because I MISSED this pairing and also I'm so happy Tokio Hotel are officially back and who needs to write a dissertation when you can stay up until 2AM writing fanfiction?

He was visiting Berlin alone to iron out some last minute promotional kinks before the up and coming album release. Their fifth studio album, Bill’s favourite album, their biggest musical risk. The board meeting with the Berlin team had gone smoothly, it would have gone smoothly over a skype call but Bill missed Germany and LA was beginning to stifle him.   
  
Bill frowned at his own lie. It wasn’t LA, it was Tom... it was Alex.   
  
Disgusted with himself, Bill swallowed, trying to banish the creep of guilt that was knotting his belly. The chilly night bit into him and he clenched his teeth, hugging his leather jacket tighter around his middle. The slow transition to winter raised bumps over his exposed forearms and he wished he’d remembered the rest of the world didn’t share LA’s eternal sunshine.   
  
“Bill!”   
  
Bill turned to see Andreas jogging up to him. He smiled at the only man who truly made him pine for Germany... then frowned, another lie. Andreas wasn’t the only man who made Bill miss his homeland but he was the only man Bill dared allow himself to think of.   
  
“You ready?”   
  
“So ready,” Bill grinned, silently urging himself to relax into Andreas’ cheery company. They’d agreed to meet after Bill’s last meeting of the day and hit the town together, for old times’ sake.  
  
“Man, it’s been so long since we’ve been out in Berlin,” Andreas said, matching Bill’s stride as they hurried to escape the cold. “I hope you haven’t forgotten how to party.”   
  
Bill slid his friend a withering look. “I live in LA, Andy.” Bill hadn’t been lying when he said he grew depressive if he stayed in.   
  
“I know,” Andy chuckled. “You might have to remind me, though. All I know is how to pull three all nighters in a row at the library.”   
  
Bill scoffed. “I can’t believe you went back to school.”   
  
“I didn’t have the option of living a life of rock ‘n’ roll luxury in LA. Anyway, I’m not back in  _school_ ,” Andy pulled a face. “I’m doing a  _masters_.”   
  
“Whatever,” Bill waved a hand. “Either way you’re stuck with your nose buried in books rather than a pair of tits.”   
  
Andreas snorted. “I know that’s not how you spend your days either.”   
  
“I might,” Bill shrugged, then motioned to the car designated to chauffer them both around for the night. “Here.”  
  
Andreas turned to Bill, “I want to hear about Alex,” he said seriously before ducking into the car and sliding over to make room for Bill.   
  
Bill sighed, a puff of visible breath swirling midair before disappearing into the black.   
  
Before Bill had departed for Germany he’d sent a somewhat desperate text to Andreas detailing his past three arguments with Alex. Things had grown serious with Alex over time, a slow burn that had become more and more explosive as time went on. Petty tiffs had become vicious battles, each one leaving Bill more exhausted than the last. Tom was so caught up with Ria he didn’t offer much consolation and LA friends came and went like trains.   
  
It wasn’t a tragedy, it was just tiring. Bill needed to talk it out with his best friend then drink himself into a blissful stupor.   
  
Tonight would be just like old times. Bill smiled at that as he slid in beside Andreas and closed the door.   
  
~~~~  
  
Tendrils of smoke engulfed them in their booth, further shrouding the pair as they caught up. Chat of Alex had ended in a resolute promise to forget the bastard for the night and drink as much as they could handle. They laughed, they drank, they danced - with particular fervour when the DJ lay down an old Nena song that Andreas reminded Bill they’d performed to their parents in fifth grade.   
  
Now, the thump of a heavy bassline was thrumming through Bill’s body, enriching the buzz of alcohol and heightening the happiness that being out with Andres was bringing. He found he no longer needed to urge himself to soak up Andy’s buoyancy, instead his own ecstasy was spurring his high.   
  
People were pressing in around him, bodies writhing together, slick with sweat and dirty with illicit desires. The place was too exclusive for a fan to bother them and no paparazzi were permitted entry. Bill felt free, much freer than he had in a long time.   
  
The atmosphere only added to his intoxicated buzz, his head swirled with the strobe but he wanted more. Andreas was edging towards a pretty brunette and Bill grinned, tapping his friend on the shoulder and motioning to the bar. Andreas nodded and then returned his attention to the brunette.   
  
The bar by the dance floor was heaving with revellers so Bill pushed his way through the crowds and headed up the stairs to the bar on the balcony. Even so, it was busy so Bill hovered, half content to wait and half hoping his head would clear slightly before he consumed his sixth... seventh... tenth drink of the evening.   
  
“Well, well, it’s been a fuckin’ long time.”   
  
Bill’s head snapped round and his jaw dropped. Something unwarranted lurched in his chest and he scowled.   
  
“What the fuck are you doing here?” He demanded.   
  
“Same thing as you, baby.”   
  
Bill folded his arms, trying to feign sobriety and present a steady posture. “I’m not your baby.”   
  
“Didn’t say you were,” Bushido grinned.   
  
“I don’t need this,” Bill’s lip curled in dislike. “I really don’t need you.”   
  
“Aw baby,” Bushido purred, stepping closer to Bill in the dark. “We both know that’s not true.”   
  
“Stop calling me that,” Bill hated that he hadn’t retreated when Bushido had moved in. Something almost – but never – forgotten was smouldering inside him and he hated himself for it. With that familiar urge also came that deprecating sense of disgust, that feeling that he’d somehow tainted himself. Only now it was so strong it almost overrode his desire, because now it was more than just a depraved game for two; it was  _wrong_ , it was  _forbidden_. Alex may be an asshole but Bill didn’t want to hurt him in this way.   
  
“It suits you,” Bushido said, leaning over Bill now and placing one hand above Bill on the wall behind him.   
  
“Don’t” Bill said. His words didn’t match his actions, for he remained passive against the wall.   
  
“Why not?” Bushido’s voice lowered and he was so close now their bodies were almost pressed together. “Give me a good enough reason.”   
  
“I have...” Bill sighed, flicking his eyes away from the man opposite for a moment. “I have a boyfriend.”   
  
He closed his eyes.   
  
Bushido scoffed and laughed. “Don’t matter to me.”   
  
Fury bubbled inside him and Bill shook his head, finally pushing both his hands against Bushido’s chest. “Of course it doesn’t.”   
  
How they’d ended up at that same crossroad so quickly, Bill didn’t know. He sucked in a breath, shaking his head as he made his way to the still crowded bar. Of course he knew. It was the same dance every time and Bill hated how easily he was pulled right back in. It had been years, fucking years and still that same smile, his smell, the stubble that lined his jaw and those jet eyes, the sheer confidence of a man who’d never known true rejection; Bill was not immune.   
  
He lifted an arm to signal a bartender who nodded that he’d be over in a moment.   
  
“You’re not as pretty as you used to be.” Bushido pressed too close to Bill, leaning down to talk in his ear and forcing Bill’s hips against the bar.   
  
Bill gasped but scowled. “I don’t care.”   
  
“Yeah, you do,” Bushido said knowingly. “You care that I said that.”   
  
Bill tensed and fought against the flush that was threatening to bleed into his cheeks. A distant but vivid memory of being pushed up against a bar just like this one at Bushido’s penthouse startled him. They’d been naked back then. Naked and furiously in to each other.   
  
How much had changed?   
  
“I don’t fucking care,” Bill gritted out, determined to show them both how much had changed.   
  
“Aw,” one side of Bushido’s mouth lifted in a foul grin, Bill could feel it move against the shell of his ear. “Don’t lie to me; you could never hide from me.”   
  
“You’re married,” Bill said, sure this would be the final push Bushido needed before he left him alone to enjoy his night with Andreas.   
  
A thrill of disappointment ran through Bill’s veins as he felt Bushido pull away slightly. He cursed himself for wanting what he couldn’t have, what he  _shouldn’t_  have.   
  
Then, his former lover was pressing a drink into each of Bill’s hands and wrapping an arm around his waist. A breath caught in his throat and Bill swallowed.   
  
Bushido led them to a quiet corner of the club, a secluded booth in the corner hidden from view of most of the club save the entry to the staff cloakroom. No one would disturb them, they could get away with almost anything. The thought left Bill feeling sinful and breathless and alive.   
  
He groaned as Bushido guided him into the leather seat and then followed, effectively trapping Bill.   
  
The expression Bill was trying to muster wouldn’t quite come. He wanted to be angry, he was angry but for all the wrong reasons.   
  
“There is no way we are doing anything,” he said, pressing his long back up against the wall and away from the man before him. “You’re married, I have a boyfriend. I don’t want this.”   
  
Bushido grinned but didn’t say anything.   
  
“Anis, we were so fucking bad together.”   
  
At that, Bushido chuckled and leaned in. “We were  _so_  bad together.”   
  
Bill couldn’t help but grin. “We were.”   
  
Memories came flooding back of panting together in secret rooms after award shows... during award shows, jeans shoved down to their ankles as Bushido pounded into Bill, memories of Bill riding Bushido in the back of limos, of being fucked against the floor-to-ceiling windows of Bushido’s penthouse, of being bent over cars, bars, park benches and CEO office desks.   
  
“We were so careless,” Bill shook his head to rid himself of the reminiscences. This was dangerous. He took a sip of his drink.   
  
“Wasn’t that half the fun?” One of Bushido’s hands went to Bill’s thigh and squeezed.   
  
Bill nodded in agreement. “God, we really were stupid though.” He groaned. “It’s a miracle that only Tom and Gustav ever caught us.”   
  
They both winced, Gustav had been silently traumatised but Tom’s reaction was violent, he’d swung his precious Gibson at Bushido’s head and his aim had been excruciatingly accurate.   
  
Gently, Bill reached up to brush two fingers over the scar that marred Bushido’s right temple.   
  
“It was exciting,” Bushido said, his hand running higher up his thigh.   
  
“Don’t,” Bill frowned and shoved his ex-lover’s hand off his leg. “There is nothing exciting about me anymore. I have a boyfriend,” he said again.   
  
“Baby,” Bushido growled. “Nothing is more exciting than you.”   
  
They were close again. Bill hadn’t even realised his back was no longer touching the wall, but instead he’d moved in just as Bushido had. Drunk eyes zeroed in on Bushido’s lips and once again a hand came up to the rapper’s face, this time pushing two fingers against Bushido’s lips.  
  
Unexpectedly, Bushido kissed them, then sucked them into his mouth.   
  
Bill’s heart hammered against his rib cage and then he lunged, hesitating only a moment before their lips met for the first time in too long.   
  
They both moaned, Bushido scrambling to heave Bill onto his lap as they kissed feverishly, a thousand sparks passing between them as Bill’s back arched and Bushido’s hands roamed. It took far too long for the lusty, alcohol induced haze to clear but when it did Bill’s heart plummeted and he pulled away, dropping two more kissed to Bushido’s cheek and neck.   
  
His head dropped to Bushido’s shoulder and Bushido’s arms slackened.   
  
“This is a mistake,” Bill mumbled.   
  
Bushido didn’t say anything but when Bill pulled back his pupils were dark with the same lust Bill knew would be reflected in his own eyes.   
  
“I’m going.”   
  
“Your loss, kid.”   
  
Bill pulled a face at the old nickname and stood, grabbing the two drinks Bushido had bought him from the table.   
  
“See you around,” Bushido said, leaning back and looking entirely too relaxed. Bill wondered why he was this blazé, why Bushido could just sit back and watch him go with a wave.   
  
“No, you won’t,” Bill shook his head.   
  
“We’ve played this game too long,” Bushido said. “I’ll see you around. We’re fuckin’ magnets, you and me.”   
  
~~~~  
  
“Long queue,” Bill shouted over the music as he returned to the dance floor. Andreas nodded and then took the drink from Bill, immediately offering it to the pretty girl he was trying to woo.   
  
Bill sipped his own drink and shuffled from foot to foot, trying to conjure his earlier euphoria. His run in with Bushido had sobered him considerably but he was still able to feel to warmth of alcohol course through his body. Unsuccessfully, he tried harnessing this but all he could think about was those rough lips against his own, moving down his body, sinfully low, scandalously low. Strong hands held him down, always forceful but never threatening.   
  
Bushido liked it rough, Bill liked it rougher.   
  
Something snapped in Bill, he wanted Bushido, no one would ever have to know, he’d never breath a word to anyone and he knew Bushido’s own reputation needed to remain intact. How could be deny himself something he’d not had for so long? Someone that made him forget, someone who showed him real pleasure, made him feel so  _alive_. It was wrong,  _god_ , it was so wrong but that only fuelled the burning need Bill had never been able to ignore.   
  
He and Bushido were a sin from the start; he’d been practically underage when he’d cornered Bushido at some industry party. They were supposed to mingle, to make  _connections_ , and Bill had found himself unable to reign in his wanton desires. After thirty minutes of batting his eyelashes and making sure to expose his new tattoo  _just so_ , he’d found himself spread eagled on a pile of coats in an upstairs cloakroom. Every meeting was illegal and illicit, breathless and urgent, exhilarating and passionate. The more reasons not to do it, the more they wanted to.   
  
“Andy,” Bill leaned to shout in his friend’s ear. “I’m not feeling too good, I’m going home. You going to be alright?”   
  
Andreas nodded, nodding to his new friend. “You okay?” He mouthed, frowning in concern.   
  
Bill nodded, giving his friend a reassuring hug and then departing.   
  
~~~~  
  
Suddenly, he was nervous. Bushido had given no sign he’d actually wanted Bill beyond a sneaky make out session in the back of a club. Like much of tonight, was it just for old times’ sake?   
  
The elevator chimed and the doors to the penthouse slid silently open. At least he’d been able to make his way up discreetly. When he’d arrived at the building he wasn’t even sure whether Bushido had remained in his apartment for the past few years. Reception had let him up without question though, recognising him from year previous, all of course bound to secrecy.   
  
“Of course you came,” Bushido’s confident voice reached Bill as he stepped onto the marble floor. “Like magnets.”   
  
“Is anyone home?”   
  
Bushido shook his head, a drink in his hand. “Sarah’s with Michael at the country house.”   
  
Bill scowled and shook his head. “You have a fucking kid.”   
  
“You jealous, kid?”   
  
“You’re sick.”  
  
“And depraved,” Bushido grinned and set his drink down. “That’s why you’re here, ain’t it?”   
  
His previous nerves dissipated and instead a thrill shot through Bill. Of course that was why he was here, because he and Bushido were both sick.   
  
In one movement he shrugged his jacked from his shoulders, then his t-shirt and kicked his boots off.   
  
“No messin’, huh?” Bushido was already doing the same, shucking his clothes until all he was wearing were a pair of designer jeans and a pleased leer.   
  
Bill nodded, silently moving to Bushido, running his hands over his chest and squeezing his arms.   
  
“Have you forgotten what I look like?” Bushido teased, his own hands tugging on the waist band of Bill’s trousers and popping open the buttons.   
  
Bill met his former lover’s eyes. “Yes.”   
  
“I’ve not changed,” Bushido shrugged one shoulder and then grabbed handfuls of Bill’s ass hauling him closer and walking backwards to the living room. “You have though.”   
  
“Not so much,” Bill said, urging Bushido to kiss him.   
  
Bushido’s lips crashed into his own, hot and demanding, just the way Bill needed. He gasped, unprepared for Bushido to shove him down onto the sofa.   
  
His heart was racing and he snatched at Bushido’s arms, tugging him down to lay on top of him. Everything was hot and heavy, smothering them both in that old, familiar lust. Desperate hands fumbled to remove jeans and then they were naked, gasping and grabbing at handfuls of each other.   
  
Bill whined, wanting freedom to move but Bushido wouldn’t let him. Strong hands pinned both of Bill’s above his head while the other worked two fingers in and out of Bill’s ass.   
  
It hurt, the only lubricant a slick layer of his own spit from when Bushido has forced his fingers into Bill’s mouth. The lack of control exhilarated Bill, he needed this so bad he felt like his body was on fire.   
  
Two fingers became three and Bill arched his back, his neck stretching back brazenly. A wet tongue licked a stripe up the skin, biting at his jaw and ears. The rough scrape of Bushido’s beard elicited a low moan from Bill and he clenched down around his lover’s – ex-lover’s fingers.   
  
“Fuckin’ hell, kid,” Bushido panted into Bill’s mouth before kissing him wetly.   
  
“Fuck me, fu- fuck me,” Bill begged.   
  
Everything was too much, Bushido a dominant force that made Bill want to cry for more and more. How could he have let this go?   
  
Bushido’s fingers left his body and he tensed as a moment later the wet, blunt end of a cock was pushing in, no holding back.   
  
“Hurts,” Bill clenched his teeth.   
  
“I’m not stopping,” Bushido promised.   
  
Bill shook his head against the fabric of the sofa. “Don’t,” he hissed.   
  
Alex was big, but Bushido was biggest. The feeling of being ripped in two was sending Bill over the edge quicker than he wanted and he tried breathing in and out.   
  
The grip Bushido had on Bill’s wrists tightened as he pushed into Bill’s body and his breath was coming short and hot against Bill’s lips. They began kissing as Bushido built a frenetic rhythm, thrusting in and out so hard that Bill’s whole body felt electric.   
  
He couldn’t move, he could barely breathe, he was suffocating in the most delicious way and he couldn’t get enough. This was so wrong.   
  
Bill threw his head back as he came, squeezing so tight round Bushido’s cock it burned. Hot spurts filled him and then Bushido collapsed, pressing his smaller body into the sofa.   
  
“Did I fuck you good, baby?”   
  
Bushido licked Bill’s ear and pressed a scratching kiss to his skin.   
  
“So good,” Bill moaned.   
  
“Best I ever had,” Bushido chuckled.   
  
“Bullshit,” Bill snorted, scratching his nails up and down Bushido’s back and digging in hard to leave enough of a red mark.   
  
A heavy weight was beginning to settle on Bill’s chest and he tried sitting up. The creep of guilt was slow but steady and he frowned, forcing Bushido off him. Something felt so wrong, he had done something so wrong, but... Bill couldn’t bring himself to regret it.   
  
“I want to regret that more than I do,” he admitted aloud.   
  
Bushido stood up and moved to his bar, pouring two drinks and returning. He handed one to Bill but didn’t sit down next to him.   
  
This wasn’t a loving relationship, Bill didn’t want Bushido’s sympathy and Bushido knew it.   
  
“I’m going now,” Bill said downing the liquor before standing up and gathering his clothes.   
  
“See you next time, kid.”   
  
Bill turned to look at Bushido over his shoulder and he gave a small smile. “See you next time.”

**Author's Note:**

> Okkaaayyyyyy so it’s been a long time since I wrote Tokio Hotel and I’m so jittery over this, and wasn’t going to post it because it’s been such a long time since I wrote about the boys... well, Bill :))))))). But anyway, I posted it! All judging is welcome, good or bad, it would be so fab to hear from whoever has caught the Tokio buzz again. God I love them, I am loving their return :) 
> 
> Also I’m so sorry for any like, discrepancies, I have soooo much of their promo and news to catch up on so I don’t know, it might seem a little rusty in parts. Also sorry for the sex bits, I don't really like writing them so they always seem a bit rushed and I haven't gone over it enough to edit it properly. Sorry!!


End file.
